


I Am Iron Man

by spacefucker



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: De-Serumed Steve Rogers, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, first thing written in a month and it's sad, major character death only for a hot second, not really a crossover more like I stole elements from FMA, tiny!Steve, tony what have you done???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 05:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7604836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacefucker/pseuds/spacefucker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve dies in battle and Tony finds himself turning to the one thing he'd so easily dismissed before. </p>
<p>Magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Iron Man

Steve comes to with a gasp, snapping upright at the waist. He was in Tony’s workshop on the floor surrounded by frantic bots and centered in a strange ring. The bright, florescent lights were out and the backup generators were on, powering red emergency lighting.

He had died. He knew he had. The last few years of casually hoping for death to come and when it had he had gone terrified. Steve remembered bits and pieces of the end. Life didn’t flash before his eyes. Nothing happened in slow motion.

There was Tony’s broken scream in his ear filtering through his comm. He remembered feeling shocked at the open devastation on Natasha’s face as she fought to get to him; a destructive force unlike any other.

Pain. White-hot and all-consuming. So much blood. Another harsh jolt of agony when the spear twisted in his heart. Then an arrow, inches from his face, sticking through the eye socket of the alien who had done what everyone thought was impossible.

The darkness, the cold that swallowed him, seemed to last for both an eternity and the barest of moments before he was shocked back into existence.

And here he was.

“Steve?”

He looked up then to see Tony. Rather, Tony in his suit. His voice was modulated and sounded breathless, as if he was shocked.

“What?” It was the only thing Steve could say.

“Steve.” Tony repeated, sounding relieved and broken all at once.

He didn’t come any closer and Steve found himself desperate for contact. He reached out for Tony, belatedly realizing he was naked as the day he was born. His hand seemed small, shaky and weak. As if keeping his arm raised took more strength than he had.

“Tony?” Steve wheezed, chest tight. “Please.” He begged without really knowing what exactly it was that he needed.

Tony moved forward then, footsteps heavy and somehow sounding hollow, and kneeled before him. Steve’s hand curled around a metal bicep and realized that it was cold.

“I’m sorry.”

Steve startled at the apology. As far as he knew, Tony had managed to bring him back. Ever the genius, Tony Stark has managed to overcome death.

“Sorry?” He asks, voice small and feeble. “Why are you sorry?”

“You’re small.” Tony whispers, voice clipped and sad, no joke to undercut the statement.

Steve barks out a laugh followed by a cough, “I’m alive.”

Tony says nothing, silent and still, he remains kneeled like a knight waiting for the sword to pass from one shoulder to the next. Steve feels a bit like Arthur: weak but alive, saved by Kay. Or rather, he supposes, Merlin, because Tony’s brilliance always illuminates everything he touches like it is magic – not science.

“You didn’t even change out of the suit before getting to work, huh?”

His poor excuse at levity falls flat. Tony is silent still and Steve’s creeping paranoia is that Tony’s not in the suit at all.

“Lift up the faceplate.” Steve means to ask but it sounds more like a demand.

There’s a sigh then, defeated, and Steve feels bad but can’t bring himself to take it back. Panic, like bile, rises in the back of his throat threatening to come out whether he likes it or not. A metal hand takes his and another takes a careful, chilly grip on his hip and raises him to his feet.

Where Steve had once been the same height as Tony in the Iron Man suit he was now almost a full foot shorter. He was forced to look up into the thin slits that were the suit’s eyes. They were glowing blue, steady and strong and he did his best not to look away, burning that light into his eyes like he could see the answer there.

Steve repeated himself, “Lift up the faceplate.”

Tony stepped back and Steve immediately feels the loss. Cold or not, without Tony close he’s vulnerable and somehow colder than he had been pressed up against whirring metal.

He’s about to ask again when Tony shifts his weight. The move looks awkward in the suit, smoother than usual. Tony had a slight limp in his right leg that made his gait and stance just a little staggered.

“I can’t.”

Steve blinks, “You can’t?”

“No.”

His feet carry himself forward before he realizes what he’s doing. He has to stand on his toes and even then it’s a stretch to place his hands on either side of the faceplate.

“Tony-“

“I wouldn’t change anything.” Tony interrupts, metal hands flexing at his sides. “Even knowing what I know now I would do it all over again.”

Steve’s hands shake and they slide down over the chest plate to press onto either side of the glow the arc reactor gave off. His feet flat to the floor doesn’t help him feel any more grounded. Tony was pulling away from him, keeping something from him. Steve’s heart ached at the tension. They had made so much progress. They had gotten so, so close.

“Tony, you’re scaring me. If you don’t tell me what’s wrong I will ask JARVIS.”

“Magic.” Tony blurts.

Steve blinks, “Magic?”

“Alchemy, rather.” Tony clarifies. “Whatever. The bastard child of magic and science.”

“You’re trapped in your armor?” Steve asks confused.

“I _am_ my armor.”

Steve laughs nervously, “Very funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

And he isn’t. Steve’s panic is full-blown now and his hands shake with the force of his nerves. Tony brings up a hand and raps a fist against his mask. All that can be heard is a slight echo.

Tony laughs self-deprecatingly, “You can’t take the suit away now. I’m Iron Man now. For real. Still a genius and still a billionaire. The playboy part will be a bit harder now, though.”

“Tony.” Steve chokes out, realization dawning on him.

“Don’t.” Tony cuts him off, bringing a large metal hand up to Steve’s own warm flesh-and-blood cheek. Goosebumps bloom on his arms and he can feel the coolness of Tony’s touch leeching the warmth from his face. “Wouldn’t change a thing, remember?”

 


End file.
